


I come up hard baby (but now I'm cool)

by sullacat



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Swears, Friendship, Gen, Ghosts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-28 13:43:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5092931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sullacat/pseuds/sullacat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone's given Bucky one more mission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I come up hard baby (but now I'm cool)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [otherwords](https://archiveofourown.org/users/otherwords/gifts).



> Written for Spoopy Halloween fest for otherworlds. Hope you enjoy! ~~Also there may be more coming because I have places to go with them now...~~

Monday it was his phone. "You been fucking with my phone?"

Steve answered without stopping his endless round of push-ups, hundreds of them each morning. "Nope," he replied, not even a hitch in his breath as he continued counting quietly to himself. "What happened?"

"Background's changed." Narrowing his eyes, he stared at the image half-hidden away behind his apps. "Some sort of bird."

Steve grunted but didn't stop, sweat just beginning to bead at his temples. Bucky rolled his eyes and stepped over him, dragging his foot across Steve's back as he headed back into his bedroom.

 

Tuesday it was his computer. "You fucking with this, too?" he asked, holding up the expensive as fuck laptop everyone swore he needed. 

Steve paused, balancing a bowl of cereal on his lap, his spoon midway to his open mouth. "No, I didn't touch nothin'. What's going on?" he asked curiously.

"It looks funny."

"Funny like what?"

"I dunno… like, whenever I turn it on, it goes to this page for some sort of rehab place." Steve stood up and walked over, but when Bucky opened it up, his eyes widened as that plain old blue background appeared. "What the fuck… it was just here, this rehab place. You aren't just trying to hint at something, are you?"

Shaking his head, Steve sat back down and resumed eating. "If I thought you needed help, Buck, I wouldn't hint. You'd know."

Asshole. "Close your mouth when you're eating. You look like a fucking cow." Steve replied by opening his mouth, showing Bucky his half-chewed cereal. "You're a barbarian. I'm living a barbarian."

 

Wednesday, there was no one to blame. Steve left that morning, off on a short trip to the West Coast with the Widow. Bucky got up, went for a run, and took a hot shower. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he turned the television onto the news channel that Steve watched. Much as he hated hearing about all the shitty news in the world, he knew it was important to be aware, to be vigilant against any of his old friends and foes.

But every time he left the room, the tv kept changing over to the Spanish channel, running some sort of nature documentary. He spent half an hour looking all around the apartment, checking for bugs, glancing out the window some someone, something that might explain whatever the fuck was going on. 

In the end, he found nothing out of the ordinary. 

_Halcones peregrinos comen otras aves como pájaros cantores y patos , así como los murciélagos._

Flopping on the sofa, he watched for a few minutes before his eyes blinked shut. 

If this was all some prank, it was a good one. 

 

The next day, Bucky couldn't pinpoint what was going on, only this strange sense that things had been messed with. His bath towel somehow ended up on the floor. The light in the kitchen was on, then off, then on again. Then the blender went nuts, turning on unexpectedly and scaring the shit out of him.

It got so bad, he left the gun Steve had given him out in the living room, where he could reach it. 

 

Friday, nothing out of the ordinary seem to happen. Almost strange, given the last few days, but Bucky found himself forgetting about all the strange happenings. He'd almost let his guard down when his phone alarm when off. _**You have one event**_

What???

Opening the calendar, he saw that someone had added an event for five that afternoon, some place in Harlem, an address that he didn't recognize. 

Was this really Steve trying to get him to go rehab?  
Fucking Steve...

 _ **Getting directions to 4812 Lexington Avenue.**_

Stupid fucking phone...

 

An hour later, Bucky found himself getting off the train in East Harlem. His hoodie covered his face and arm, but even so, that feeling of being watched, being hunted brought back terrible memories of those days, when he wasn't Bucky, when he was The Soldier and Stevie wasn't Stevie, but his mission.

Maybe he did need some rehab. Fuck. 

_**You have reached your destination, 4812 Lexington Avenue.**_

Lexington Avenue Community Center. The old brick building looked unfamiliar, as did the people coming out. 

Stepping inside, he kept his eyes open and moving as he walked down the hallway, scanning for a potential threat as well as an answer. Why he was even here, he had no idea. This 'curiosity' was the sort of operational risk that fucked up a mission and he knew better than to try and figure this out on his own.

No. If this some plan of Stevie's, it wasn't gonna work. Bucky'd been Bucky for nearly a year, mostly okay for six months. No recent relapses, not as many nightmares, and-

Turning the corner, he didn't even spot the other man coming. "Hey, I'm sorry, man," he began, reaching down to help him up, careful not to grab too hard. But this wasn't a stranger. "Wilson?"

"Last time I checked." Sam bent down to pick up some of the small pamphlets that had fallen out of his hands. "What are you doing here?" he asked, carefully eying Bucky. "Where's Rogers?"

"West Coast," Bucky replied. "What are you doing here?"

"I work here. Sometimes," Sam added, looking up and down the hall. "Help out with counseling, run a couple groups for veterans. Anger management, PTSD. I got an apartment around the corner, like a bolt hole, when I gotta not be 'an Avenger' for a while." 

That made sense. "Did Steve tell you I was coming?" he asked cautiously.

"Nope. Haven't talked to the boss in a couple weeks." Sam was watching him more closely now, that feeling of being probed, assessed. 

Bucky hated that feeling. "Okay, well, I don't know what's going on, but I'm gonna leave you alone now." 

"Wait, now you've got me curious. What brought you here, if it wasn't Steve."

Bucky snorted. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you, man."

But that just made Sam smile, and for some godforsaken reason, that always managed to put Bucky at ease. "Okay, but then at least have a cup of coffee or something. I'm done here for the day, and you can tell me what's going on with you before you head back to Brooklyn." 

 

Sam's office wasn't big, but it felt like Sam in a way Bucky couldn't put his finger on. A small room, just big enough for a computer table and a couple chairs. "But right next to the Keurig," Sam told him, handing Bucky a paper cup filled with something strong and warm and black. "You liked it sweet, right?"

For some reason, those words cut through the underlying paranoia that had been a part of his entire week, and for the first time in four days, Bucky smiled, offering a quiet 'thanks'. 

Neither man spoke for a few minutes, but the silence wasn't uncomfortable. Bucky was aware that Sam was looking at him, maybe in that 'counselor' sort of way, but he didn't feel the urge to get up and run. Glancing around the room, he spotted some familiar faces. A photo of the Avengers, lounging around in casual clothes. A picture of Sam and another man in desert camouflage, standing in front of a sign.

MARJAH

"...you didn't need some help with something?"

Bucky's head swam a moment. _Where had he seen that word?_ "What?"

Sam leaned over and offered him a cookie from a plastic container. "I just wanted to be sure, since you were here and all, if you wanted to talk about anything. Any issues or problems, anything that's come up." Grabbing a cookie of his own, he took a small bite. "It all stays between us, nothing leaves this room."

"You wouldn't say nothin' to Steve?" Bucky asked, disbelieving. 

"Not a peep," Sam answered, holding his eyes for a long moment before Bucky turned away. "You okay?"

Did he need help? 

Bucky's eyes landed on another picture, an older couple he presumed were Sam's parents, and one of Sam holding his arm out, a bird perched on his arm. 

A bird. 

No. A _falcon_.

Did Bucky need help? "No… but I thought _you_ might." 

Sam frowned. "Come again?" 

_Marjah_. "Have you seen a doctor lately?"

Sam shrugged. "Well, I mean, not lately. I get checked out after our missions by our medical personnel, but-"

"No, I mean…" Bucky pointed at the picture of Sam and the other man. "Marjah. It was on the news this week. Vets coming down with some strange cancers, chemical exposure to some nasty shit that got buried out near Marjah by the Russians." When Sam's face appeared unsure, he pointed at the laptop on Sam's desk. "Look it up, I swear I saw that report three or four times." 

His television kept replaying the same show, to the point Bucky had it memorized. At the time, Bucky had thought it was some glitch in the network programming, but now…

Maybe he was _meant_ to be here. "Promise you'll get checked out tomorrow."

"I promise." The mood had gotten a lot more serious as Sam tapped at his computer, eyes darting across the screen - but Bucky felt like he was on the edge of understanding. "Does today… mean anything to you?" he asked, glancing at a calendar pinned to Sam's wall. 

More birds. 

Sam froze, a noticeable tightness in his shoulder, and around his mouth. "It does," he nodded, fingers scratching at his chin. "It's an unhappy anniversary. Lost my partner." Turning, he reached for the picture of him and the other man. "Five years today, wow. Hadn't thought it had been that long." Looking up at Bucky, he furrowed his brow. "How did you know?"

Now it was Bucky's turn to smile enigmatically. The birds. The laptop. The news. "Just a hunch." 

Sam didn't look like he believed him, but he let it drop. 

 

It surprised Bucky to find so much to talk about when Steve wasn't around, but before he knew it, an hour had slipped by. The sun had set and the streetlights lit up the street when they walked out the door, Sam locking up the building behind him. "You call me when you find out whatever the docs say, okay?" Bucky told Sam.

Sam just shook his head. "Barnes, I'm gonna be okay. Probably nothing."

"Yeah, probably. But still...call me."

Sam nodded, giving Bucky a shy smile of his own. "You take care," he said, turning and walking in the opposite direction. 

Bucky watched him for a moment before turning and heading home.

 

He met the pizza guy at his door just as he got back home. 

"Barnes?"

"Yeah," he answered cautiously before the large box was thrust into his arms. Without another word the delivery guy was on his bike and off on his way. The receipt was taped to the top of the box. The comment section had just two words. 

_Mission accomplished_

Fucking good pizza, too.


End file.
